


Far Away

by purple_dolphin



Category: Harry Potter - Fandom
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-08-12
Updated: 2012-10-19
Packaged: 2017-11-12 00:26:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 13,311
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/484600
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/purple_dolphin/pseuds/purple_dolphin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Her last words he knows are a lie, he knows he caused her untold pain. Will he do what he must to have her back? Can all be forgiven and forgotten? some OOC happens in later chapters</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. I Never Loved You

**Author's Note:**

> This is a story I wrote last fall, when I ran across a the prompt 'I never loved you.' It was intended to be a one shot, but then it took on a life of it's own. Thanks to Stephaine and Shannon for their beta work. Enjoy.

"I never loved you!" she screamed at him before she slammed the door on her way out.

He sat heavily in the chair, his mind racing back to a time when he heard those exact same words.

~~^~~ ~~^~~

_"Just leave me alone." Lily said to him for the thousandth time since that spring. He had tried to apologize numerous times for his slip of the tongue, though she would hear none of it._

_"But I'm trying to apologize, I was upset and angry. I never meant to say that to you."_

_"Maybe not, but you say it about everyone who is like me. A muggle born witch, what makes me so different than them?" Lily asked._

_"I love you." He stated quietly._

_She looked at him for a long moment before she finally came to the conclusion that the only way he was going to leave her alone was to spout a lie and hoped he believed it._

_"I never loved you Severus, now please, leave me alone." She watched as the hurt passed across his face, quickly covered by a sneer before he said,_

_"Great friends you have Lily, you allowed them to poison you against me. The ones that have treated me terribly, yet I didn’t retaliate often because of you. Now you let them tell you that I'm the bad guy in all of this, and you believe they are right. You are nothing but a two-faced mudblood bitch."_

_Her hand connected with his face, the crack of the slap being the only sound in the silence of the early evening. He turned leaving her standing by the water's edge._

_Lily knew that he had said those awful things to her because she had cut him deeply, it had been a lie. She did love him, but it was just much easier to bend to the will of her house than fight them any longer. She hoped that he had a good life, found someone else that would care for him and that he would care for._

~~^~~ ~~^~~

Severus stared into his empty glass, as if it would hold all the answers. He never asked for this, nor did he want any of it. Forced into a marriage with someone so much younger than himself, he found himself caring for her despite his best efforts not to. After five years of her presence in his life, he found that she had made for an engaging companion.

She did what her duty was as his wife, she stood beside him, though it cost her many of her friends. The two that he thought would truly run away were the two that stuck with her, and Potter and Longbottom had become welcome guests in his home. True, he was not here when they were, or they met in passing.

He didn’t deny her that. He found the longer they were together, The longer they were together, the less he felt he could deny her. As if she ever asked for anything from him. With the exception of the one thing she truly wanted from him, the one thing she never asked for, his love. He had overheard a conversation between her and Potter once six months ago.

~~^~~~~^~~

_"What are you going to do once this law is repealed?" Potter asked._

_"What do you mean? There is no divorce in this world, it's forever Harry."_

_"But you are stuck in a loveless relationship." Something that Potter saw, which Severus did not, made the young man pause. "Or maybe not, do you love him?"_

_Severus had not realized that he had stopped breathing just to be sure he heard her answer._

_"Yes, but you cannot say anything to anyone, least of all Severus. He must never know this is how I feel."_

_"Why not?"_

_"He doesn’t…. can't feel the same about me. I can never give him children. After the fourth miscarriage, the healer petitioned the Ministry to have the copulation part withdrawn, and he has not come near me since. If this law is repealed and they allow us to divorce I will go quietly, though it will not be without a shattered heart."_

~~^~~~~^~~

Now he understood, though it took him long enough to finally figure it out. Lily didn’t tell him that she never loved him to hurt him; she had done it to set him free. Hermione didn’t scream the same words at him to hurt him or justify her leaving at the first opportunity she was able.  No, they both were so much alike in that they both said those words to him to set him free.

He hurled the empty glass at the cold fireplace, though the shattering of the glass did nothing to calm him. He looked down at his trembling hands. He knew this time how she felt and he still allowed the one person in the world that looked past his outer armor to walk out. He raked his hands through his hair to try and halt their shaking.

He finally stood, pacing. Because of a law, he had allowed her into his home. He made sure she knew it was because he had to. He didn’t ask, just shoved her into his old bedroom, saying she could do whatever she wanted with it. He had only ever seen the inside of it when the damn ring tingled on his finger, making it known that it was time for the copulation that the law forced upon them. He never once brought her to his bed. Her bed was smaller, all the better for the excuse to leave when he was done.

Somehow his legs had carried him to her room, the room that he never really looked at. Now that he stood in the doorway staring at the room, he was struck by how empty it truly was. There really seemed to be nothing that personalized the room as hers. When she signed the paper, had she not said she'd be back to get her things? As he looked at the room as a whole now, not with the tunnel vision of the past entries into the room, he saw the only things that even suggested a woman lived there was the frilly scraps of material he saw through the open closet door, the ones she wore when the ring tingled.

This room reminded him of another he saw years ago, the one time he let Lucius talk him into going to one of the brothels in Knockturn Alley. He was struck by the comparison. Did she really think of herself that way or was it he who treated her as a common whore? Did it really matter? He had treated her that way.

He walked over to the bed, sitting down, and he saw then the only personal thing in the room; a small music box that he had bought her for a wedding present, at Minerva’s insistence. It was the only gift he had ever given her. He opened the lid to find that the music had an odd flat tone to it. Inside lay the only photograph of their wedding, with her ring laid on top of it. He hadn’t even noticed that she had not been wearing it. He looked down at his own hand, the band of silver around his finger. A metal she had insisted on saying that she found gold to be gaudy. He had known she had done that for him.

He took out the ring placing it on his little finger; it barely fit to the first knuckle. He picked up the photograph. He looked as he always did, not smiling. Hermione, on the other hand had a small smile on her face. As she looked up at him, it disappeared, only for the photo to reset itself.

He looked at the photo and the ring wondering when it had happened. When had he let himself care for her, to love her? He laid down on his side facing the nightstand, propping the photo up so he could stare at it. He did something then that he hadn’t done since the day he had heard those words so long ago; he cried.


	2. Leaving

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione's thoughts before she leaves

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note: Thanks to my betas Stephanie and Shannon  
> Disclaimer: Do I really need to say that I don’t own them? I'm just playing with someone else's toys and do return them in the same shape I have found them (well that may not always be the case).

 

 

Hermione stood in the middle of her bedroom, the room that he had almost thrown her into when he brought her here five years ago. The room was just as stark as when she had arrived. The music box on the bedside table caught her eye. She went over, sitting on the bed, opening the small wooden box to hear the music fill the room as she took out the photograph that lay inside.

Five years ago she had been naive in her assumption that if she was a dutiful wife, if she stood beside him when no one else would, he would learn to at least like her. That had been her mistake; Severus Snape had no room in his heart for her.  It was taken by a ghost or by hatred. She had really thought that day that if he was just shown caring, love, and friendship he would change. Now looking down at the photo she knew that he would never change; he would always be the cold, abrasive person that he had been when she came to the Wizarding world.

She picked up the music box. When he had given it to her on their wedding night she had hoped that maybe the outer layer he wore to the world was just that; an armour to protect himself against everyone, that through their vows he would know that he could trust her, and let his guard down. In her immaturity she thought that he was holding out a gift to show that he would let her into his life. Of course that never happened. A year ago, Neville let it slip that Minerva all but forced Severus to buy her a gift for their wedding, as was the tradition.

She looked at the box now. It might look empty, but it held what had been her hopes and dreams. She threw it against the wall watching as it broke, falling to the floor. She didn’t worry about being heard. She had always put a Silencing charm around her room since the day he complained that her breathing at night kept him awake.

She laid back on the bed. She didn’t know if she was angry at the fact that she had deluded herself or because she still loved him with everything she was. The latter reason would be what got her through the next few hours. She would give him whatever it was he asked for, though she knew it was going to be a divorce. She would leave with her head held high, and when she got to her parents’ house, she would teach herself how to carry on without him in her life; she would learn to breathe again with this crushing weight on her chest.

She rose, going to retrieve the box from the floor, quickly repairing it before she brought it back over to the bed. She looked around the room again. She had woken early to pack her things away, which wasn’t mush. She had taken everything that was hers in the bathroom after she showered that morning. She wouldn’t leave a trace of herself in this house, except for the music box, the photo, and the wedding ring that she didn’t want to take off her finger just yet, the ring that tingled when it was time to meet the copulation requirements of the marriage law.

 

The first few times he made no show as to what he thought of having sex with her. He would come into her room and stand in front of her, making sure that she saw that he had to down a potion to be able to fulfill the obligation. Then one night after he left her alone, the words he said played over in her mind. The next day she bought the first of what she had come to term her whore outfits. They were really just scraps of satin and lace, but the next time the ring tingled she worked herself into one then waited. It had done its’ job; he didn’t stand in front of her again downing a potion to show her that she was not sexually appealing to him. Of course, now standing here looking at them, she was disgusted at how they made her feel like a common whore, and not the wife that gave her husband what he desired as she had thought at the time. That thought hit home the last time the ring tingled. She hadn’t dressed for him that night. The moment he was through the door he looked her up and down then left, coming back with a potion. She had no idea if he thought that doing so would show her that he only wanted to see her as a whore, or if he really did find her unappealing. Whatever the reason, she would not wear one again until he asked her too, with words, not actions.

She never found out if he would ask or not. Two weeks later she miscarried for the fourth time and the healer petitioned for them to forego the requirement on the grounds that multiple miscarriages could have an effect on her mental health, and Severus never came into her room again.

Hermione closed the lid of the trunk on the bed; shrinking it she dropped it into her bag. She sighed as she sat back on the bed. She placed the photo back into the box, then took a deep breath before sliding her wedding ring off and placing it on top, closing the lid. She walked out of the room she had called her bedroom for the past five years, for the last time.

As she descended the stairs she heard him call for her; like she didn’t know what he wanted. She stepped into the sitting room to have a piece of parchment put in front of her. She took it and the offered quill, willing her hands not to shake. She walked over to the table saying,

"Where do I sign?"

"Below my name."

She looked back at the parchment. The moment the quill touched it, he asked the one question she never thought she would hear from him.

"Do you love me?" the question was asked with no emotion whatsoever.

She closed her eyes. She couldn’t live this way any longer, like an outsider in her own marriage. She signed her name on the paper quickly, and then watched as it started to shake, then roll itself up and fly toward the fireplace. She laid the quill on the table. As she turned he said, "I asked you a question."

"What does it matter now Severus?" she asked, thinking it was too bad he hadn’t asked her even six months ago; she might have answered him then.

She walked toward the door.  "I'll be back for my things."

"Will you be okay?" he asked.

Why did he suddenly want to ask these questions? She signed the damned papers, he was free of her. She plastered a smile on her face before turning toward him.

"Don’t worry about me, I'll be fine." Under her breath she said, "As if you ever did worry."

"Don’t assume to know my thoughts or feelings," he said to her.

"Then don’t ask me mine," she shot back, taking a few more steps towards the door.

"Do you love me?" he asked again, still with nothing in his voice to give a hint of what he was thinking.

"Why? Why tell you? So you can laugh at me once the door is closed? I don’t think so."

She was almost to the door her hand reaching for the knob when he said, "What's so hard about one question?"

"I never loved you!" she screamed at him as she opened the door, slamming it behind her.

Once the door was closed behind her, she leant her back against it, sliding down until she was sitting. Breathing again sounded easy enough, doing it was a totally different thing. She felt as if a part of her had been torn out. She never expected the end to feel this way.

Finally she stood, and went to the bridge to Apparate to her parents’ house. It was the only place in the world she had to go.

She went straight to her room. She had been here this last week cleaning the house. She knew that when this day came she would be coming here. She lay down on the bed, willing herself not to cry, but force of will did not stop the tears, that became sobs, from coming. She wondered if in time she would come to believe the lie she had screamed at him before she slammed the door.

 

 


	3. A Year Later

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note: I'm so sorry I didn’t get this posted on Friday when I wanted to, RL bit me in the rear and demanded my time over the weekend. Hopefully it's all taken care of now. I also have a question for my dear readers, I'm in desperate need of a beta for the sequel (the one I had has some RL issues and is unable to finish this for me) My main concern is grammar and spelling at the moment. (the rest can be fixed later) if anyone is interested in helping me out or know someone who can I would really appreciate it and there maybe cookies involved;)
> 
> Disclaimer: Do I really need to say that I don’t own them? I'm just playing with someone else's toys and do return them in the same shape I have found them (well that may not always be the case).

_A Year Later_

Severus stood outside the closed door of the bedroom Hermione had stayed in while they were married; he had not been inside the room since the day she left. Once he had woken up from falling asleep on her bed he had taken her ring, along with his, and put them on a chain around his neck. He closed the door and had not gone back into the room in the past year.

He had held out a little hope for a while that she would be back; she had said that she would be to retrieve her things after all. She never came back, nor had she ever sent anyone, so he had come to the conclusion that she either had taken her things with her or didn’t care enough to come back for them. Either way he decided last night it was time to pack the room up. She wasn’t coming back no matter how much he wished it. He had been too….. proud, too stubborn, to go after her, to admit he made a mistake in letting her go.

 

He took a deep breath as he opened the door. The room looked as it did when he closed the door last year. Why he thought it would be different he didn’t know. He gave a flick of his wand removing all the dust that had collected in the last year. He placed the trunk on the bed before going to the still open closet. He could have used magic, but thought it would be better to pack away her things manually, in the hopes of packing away the memories of her with them.

He made quick work of the closet and the dresser in the room; most of the items were the scraps of satin and lace she had left. He smirked as he remembered the first time he walked into the room to her wearing one of these things. He didn’t even think about it that night when he laid her on the bed, she had just looked too damn hot in the little pink frilly thing that left absolutely nothing to the imagination. It wasn’t like she needed to wear them; he had been turned on every time he came to this room. He never let her know. He made sure that she had every reason to think that he was not attracted to her. If she had only known that the 'potion' he took every time was nothing more than an endurance enhancer. He had wanted to make sure she received pleasure from their encounters; even though he wouldn’t do anything she liked. Despite his efforts, she told him she had only enjoyed it twice.

Now he didn’t know why he led her to believe different. No, that was a lie. He knew exactly why he did it. Now that he looked back on it, it seemed petty. He had done it to have the upper hand; all it succeeded in doing was making her think all he wanted was a whore. It had all been a mind game that backfired on him in spectacular fashion.

He moved the trunk off the bed, stripping the sheets. The bottom sheet caught on something under the mattress, and he lifted it to find a journal; Hermione's. He wondered if she even knew she left it here. He banished the sheets to the laundry room as he sat on the bed opening the book then closed it. These were her private thoughts, and he had no business reading them.

He looked under the mattress and bed for anything else. Finding nothing, he banished the trunk to the attic. He took the journal to his room. Sitting on the bed, he opened and closed the book several times. He started to finger the rings around his neck. He never realized until she was gone that he would miss her presence in the house. He remembered she spent the majority of time in her room, alone. That wasn’t quite true; she had just tried to stay out of his way. Could he really fault her? He complained about her being there enough. Over the last year he wished he hadn’t. He had been so petty, even going so far as complaining once that her breathing kept him awake. That hadn’t been the case. She had had a nightmare that woke him. He never heard her again, but it was just another thing he made her suffer.

He laid his hand on the journal again. Did he even want to know what she was thinking? He did, but he didn’t; what would the book tell him about himself? What would it tell him of how she saw him while they were married?

He took the journal with him as he went to the eat supper, laid on the table taunting him as he ate. Later, in the sitting room as he drank Firewhiskey, he finally picked up the book, opening it to the first page. The date caught his attention first; it was the date they married. The words were that of a young woman with high ideas. She wrote about the wedding, how she was happy and hoped that in time he would be also. She also wrote of his treatment of her that night; she justified it by saying that he would have to learn that she could be trusted. She wrote how much that music box had meant to her, that in time she hoped that he would trust her enough to drop the cloak he wore for the world to show her his true self.

The next several weeks were full of words of her adjusting to living with him and the requirements of the marriage law. She wrote about how her parents had always shared a room but that she knew he had been alone so long that the arrangement would just take some getting used to on his part.

He started reading her entry a week later then slammed the book closed. He had no recollection of what he had said to her, until he read it on the page. Of course he was drunk that night, he had forgotten about the damn ring until it started tingling on his finger. He didn't recall going up the stairs, or even bedding her that night. Nor did he remember saying anything to her, but why would she lie in writing her private thoughts?

He drank the rest of the whiskey in the glass then poured another, drained it before refilling, then picked up the book again. This time he read, word for word, what he said to her. Her last line stabbed him the deepest; _if he wants his wife to be a whore to desire her I can do that for him._ He closed the book, setting it back down. It was what he called her that night, amongst other things. He didn’t remember any of it. He thought about trying to pull the memory, to see if she had taken what he said out of context. Not that he thought she did; he just couldn’t remember and wanted to see for himself.

He made his way to his room, where he kept his Pensieve. He raised his wand to his temple, locating the memory, and removed it, dropping the silvery strand into the water. Taking a deep breath, he leaned forward lowering his head to touch the surface.

 

~~^~~~~^~~

 _He_ _sat in his chair; he had been drinking most of the evening. It hadn’t been a good day, January thirtieth never was. He drank the whiskey that his father had preferred when he was growing up, and hissed when the ring tingled on his finger. He drank another glass before slowly walking up the stairs. He stopped in his room for the potion. He downed one, and picked up another before leaving the room. With his mind the way it was tonight he knew that there was not a chance in hell that he was in the mood to fulfill the requirement. He stood in the doorway of the room, looking at her sitting on the bed, twisting her ring around her finger as she watched him take the potion he always took while he was standing there._

 _The way he approached her was akin to a predator, stalking his skittish prey_. _Once he reached the bed his mouth started working, words falling out of their own accord._

_"I don’t see why you have to insist on dragging this out by being clothed when you know I’m coming. Now be the good little whore that you are and remove your clothes at once."_

_He watched as she pulled her nightgown over her head. Now that he was watching this from a distance, he could see how scared she was._

_"That's a good little slut." He had already undone his pants, and in one swift motion, he shoved her back on the bed and began doing what was required._

_He listened as he told her that she'd be nothing more than an unpaid whore to him, that he could find the same, for a price, in Knockturn Alley if he wanted._

_In his belittling of her he went so far as to say,  "If I close my eyes I can pretend it's Lily I'm fucking and not some whore like you."_

~~^~~~~^~~

He pulled himself out of the memory, not able to listen to his words any longer. If there had been any question as to whether or not she thought of herself that way it was erased. She saw herself that way because he told her that was all she was to him.

It had been the only time he was that drunk when he went to her. He awoke in his bed the next morning with no recollection of the night before. He never drank that much again until the day she left.

He had given her every reason to hate him, never any reason to care for him or love him.  The next page of the journal contained more of her thoughts from that night and as he read them, he was struck at how well she had read him.

~~^~~~~^~~

_I know he was drunk tonight. I also know what today is. I am Harry's best friend after all. But alcohol only lowers inhibitions, leads people to say what they really want without censor. Tomorrow I will go shopping for something to wear for him, since I have had time to calm down from what he said tonight. I can see how he wouldn’t ask me to dress like that for him unless he was drunk. I wonder if I should also obtain a red wig to wear, I just don’t know about that. I cannot be her, I am me and though I could try I don’t know how she would have reacted during sex. I really don’t want to think about it either, so maybe an image of Lily is all I can give him. Would he really ever see me if I did that for him? I know we have only been married six weeks, and I know it takes time to adjust, but I don’t know if my heart will survive the adjustment period. I do know that if he ever trusts me enough, then fair’s fair, as they say._

~~^~~~~^~~

Severus set the book down on the bed. He never once let her have the upper hand in bed. She had been so quiet in the last couple of years that they were required to have sex, the only way he knew that she even achieved climax was her tightening around him. Now that he thought about it, he had made her that way. When they were first married, she would tell him what she liked. He would never do what she liked again, he made her quiet in bed by not giving her what she enjoyed. He had taught her to keep her mouth shut about things she liked by withholding them from her.

He wondered if she ever knew or found out that he never had sex with Lily, that they never went that far. Truth be told, they never went anywhere. They only ever shared one kiss, and that should have been his first clue that they were not meant to be.

He looked to the journal on the bed, picking it up to read the next entry.


	4. The Journal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to Stephaine and Shannon for their beta work. Enjoy

He read about her hopes and dreams for them, which covered several months, until he reached a day in the journal that only read, “ _Happy Birthday Hermione……. I miss my mum.”_ He read the words several times before he closed the book. He hadn’t even known until that moment when her birthday was. He never bothered to ask; she knew when his was though. Every year while they were married, he found a card on his breakfast plate for his birthday, and yet he hadn’t bothered to ask when hers was.

Her entry on their anniversary, another day in which he ignored her and left before she woke and didn’t return until the next day, she wrote about how she wondered what she was doing wrong. She listed all the things she had done to appease him, how she silenced her room when he complained about her breathing, how she wore the 'whore outfits' because he seemed to like them, how she tried to help him with research, only to be told that she wasn’t needed.

The next entry that caught his attention was Christmas. She wrote about how they had had breakfast together before she went back to her room to prepare to go to visit her friends that day. She had asked him to go with her and he gave her some excuse as to why he couldn’t. Now that he thought about it, she asked him to join her every year and every year he made an excuse. The end of the entry talked about how she wondered if he liked the present she had given him, since he didn’t say anything about it when she returned.

He set the book down to open the drawer on his bedside table. In it was everything she had ever given him. Every birthday card, every Christmas present, every anniversary card. She had tried so hard to make the marriage work. At the time he didn’t care. That wasn’t true. If he didn’t care he wouldn’t have kept everything. He did care, but just didn’t know how to tell her or show her. The last time he let his true feelings show, he became a broken man for a very long time.

The next one that drew him into reading it was when she miscarried the first time. He had no idea how depressed she was after that or how much she wanted him to do nothing more than comfort her. She wrote “ _He couldn’t be bothered to stay, I just lost his child and he had better things to do than sit with me.”_ He hadn’t stayed, he left the moment he knew she would be fine. Looking back on it, he was cold toward her about it. He remembered saying that it didn’t matter to him, or something to that effect. What really stabbed him was how dark her musings had become after that day for almost a year. She wrote about staying in her room for days, only coming out when she had to force herself to eat, and the only time she saw him was when the ring tingled. He read about her blaming herself for it. If she had done something different maybe she wouldn’t have lost the baby, and he wouldn’t be blaming her now.

He never realized how much time she had spent holed up in her room after her miscarriage. Truth be told, he didn’t stay around to find out. Her strength was what struck him; she pulled herself out of that alone.

He read the entries after she miscarried. How did he not notice that she was that depressed when she lived in the same house with him? He knew that she was upset, he just didn’t really pay attention if she spent all her time in her room. He would have had to been here to notice, but he was just grateful that their required encounters were on hold for a time.

The entry about the miscarriages that got to him was the first time they had to have sex after her third miscarriage. He knew she had cried the whole time, but he thought she was just still in pain from what happened. She had been, in a way, just not the way he thought. By her own hand he now knew that she was terrified of becoming pregnant again, and she wrote how she didn’t know if she could handle another loss like that alone.

He read the entry from the day he had overheard her talking to Potter. It was the first time she had ever written in the journal about loving him. She wrote that she had since they married, but she would never tell him because his heart was with someone else, and she couldn’t give him children. She wrote that if they allowed divorce when they disbanded the marriage law, she would sign the papers if he asked her to, hopeful that setting him free from her would allow him to find someone he could love and care for.

The irony was that he gave her the divorce on that day because he thought he was setting her free, that she could find someone her own age that would be able to give her what he had not been able or willing to give.

He slammed the book closed, throwing it across the room. Why was it he found out a little too late that what he loved and cared for was her? Why did she have to be so much like Lily in that respect, freeing him to find someone else? He hadn’t even wanted the silly girl, until the day he heard her tell Potter that she loved him. Why was it that was all he had to hear to bring all of his feelings to the forefront, to chip away the walls he had built around himself was her declaration of love?

He tried after that day, it was in her journal. She wrote how he would carry on a conversation with her now, and she speculated that maybe he finally realized that she wasn’t going to betray him. Now that he thought about it, in the last six months of their marriage she spent more time out of her room than in it. In that time he didn’t see the inside of her room, and he wondered if the two were connected. He had contemplated in those six months getting her to tell him she loved him, but it didn’t seem fair to make her admit it to him when he wasn’t sure he could ever say the words to her.

He reached for the journal again as dawn started to break, giving the world outside the window a hue of reds and oranges.

He opened the journal to the last entry.

 


	5. More Journal Reading

He opened the journal to the last entry, and started to read.

_I've spent the last week rereading what I have written in these pages since the news came that tomorrow they are going to allow any couple that married under the marriage law to divorce if that is what they choose. I have no doubt that the moment midnight comes he will be giving me papers to sign to dissolve our marriage, which I will sign so that maybe he can be happy._

_As I read over the passages covering the first year of our marriage, I am saddened by how naive I was. That first year was me doing all the adjusting and changing to appease him, to keep from being yelled at for some small infraction; breathing too loudly, hair in the bathroom, among countless other things I did that annoyed him. The day after my birthday that year I was so alone that I stopped by my parents’ house to pick up the otter my mum got me when I explained a Patronus and told her what mine was. I miss her terribly; she never missed my birthday. The same night I bought it with me, I packed it away. Though he didn’t say a word about it, the total look of disgust on his face that I had a small stuffed animal on what was supposed to be my bed made me hide it in my trunk._

_I wasn’t allowed in his bedroom or in the basement. I was hardly allowed in any other room, and when I entered a room he would leave it. I had had visions of shared meals and evenings. For being so bright, I was so stupid. The day that really stabbed me was our anniversary. He left before I woke that morning and didn’t return until the next day. I'm sure he had spent the day or at least the night with his preferred whore._

_The next year evened out some. I became accustomed to what he expected from me. I stayed out of his way most of the time, but we still had to meet the sexual requirement of the marriage law, which I tried to enjoy myself in. I did learn in the year to keep my mouth shut if I liked something he did to me, if I said anything about enjoyment he would never touch me or do what he had done again. It was too bad that it took about seven different things that I enjoyed to figure that out. I know I must have seemed like an ice queen; I ended up just lying there, not giving any indication if I liked anything or not._

_By the third year I had mistakenly thought that he had become accustomed to me, at the very least, until I found out I was pregnant, then miscarried. I had never thought before in my life that I would miss something so much that I never even really had in the first place. I had been delighted when I found out that I was carrying his child, I had thought that he would surely appreciate the baby I would give him. When I told him that I was pregnant, he looked so relieved, and I can only assume that it was because he wouldn’t have to lower himself to come to my bed, at least for a while. When I first noticed I didn’t feel right I didn’t say anything for several days; I didn’t want to be a bother to him. The night I lost the baby, I was standing at the sink after I had eaten supper, and the pain that hit me was so sharp that I doubled over and screamed. I barely remembered him coming into the kitchen and picking me up off the floor. He carried me to the fireplace, taking me to St. Mungo's. After they told me what happened,  I couldn’t help but cry, though I tried not to. I had learned to not show weakness to him. I had asked him to stay with me that night. I needed him and I had thought that he would be sympathetic since it was his child, but he had some excuse as to where he had to be._

_In the months that followed I was convinced it was my fault, something I did wrong, so I read everything I could get my hands on about conceiving. It wouldn’t happen the next time if I could do anything to stop it._

_I noticed after that, he stayed home more. He would watch me, though I pretended not to notice. I convinced myself it was him showing that he cared for me. Of course I found out later that he was told to keep an eye on me for signs of depression, and as soon as he didn’t see any, I was ignored again. There were no more suppers together, no evenings spent reading._

_The sad thing that hit me in that time was that I knew I loved him, his faults, his bristling sarcastic tongue and all. All I wanted was to save him, give him the life he deserved to live after all he had sacrificed for everyone. I know that makes me sound like a martyr, but I am not. I just didn’t believe that he deserved to be locked up in Azkaban for less crimes than others paid their way out of. What I felt wasn’t the bright flash of a young love that would only end the first time something else came along, but a feeling deep in my soul that I couldn’t deny any longer. It was the kind that made it hard to breathe when you thought about not ever being with that person again. I didn’t even care how he treated me anymore._

_After two more miscarriages they said that it was all my fault that I couldn’t carry a baby; it had something to do with the Cruciatus curse. Honestly, I didn’t pay attention after the healer said that he would petition for us to not be bound to the copulation required by the law. It was the only other time I asked anything of him; I asked him to stay with me. The bastard huffed out an almost laugh before saying 'I don’t think so'. I knew that he would always blame me for what I could not give to him, that he would hate me for not being able to bear a child. I curled into myself that night, knowing that when the time came, when the whispered rumors about divorcing would be allowed, I would give him up to find what he needed, as I no longer had any delusions that it was me._

_The day Harry asked me about loving him, it amazed me that I was able to keep from crying when I said that I did love him but I would leave with my shattered heart when the day came. I didn’t tell Harry about not being able to breathe when I even thought about it._

_Now I sit here writing this, I am finding hard to catch my breath. Soon I will be giving up my whole world. Soon I will have to leave the room that has been my sanctuary and prison for the last five years, sign my name to a paper that I want nothing to do with, then walk out of this house for the last time and learn to breathe again with the crushing weight on my chest that I know is my broken heart._

Severus reread the pages many times before he closed the book, his hand automatically reaching for the chain he wore. He had jaded her. He knew that fact as well as he knew that the same was done to him. When he got around to asking about her feelings, it was too late for her. He set the book aside and the glass he had in his hand. Standing he went to the opposite wall. Looking at his refection in the mirror that hung there he finally said, "You know the feeling all too well don’t you? To have your heart shattered and stomped on. You made her feel the same way, only worse." He drew back his fist punching the mirror, the glass shattering around his hand embedding small shards into his knuckles. He laid his head against the wall next to the mirror as he concentrated only on the pain in his hand.


	6. Hermione's Year

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note: Sorry it's been so long since an update...hopefully I will be making up for it today.  
> Disclaimer: Do I really need to say that I don’t own them? I'm just playing with someone else's toys and do return them in the same shape I have found them (well that may not always be the case).

Hermione stood in the kitchen of her childhood home waiting for the water to boil.  A year ago today she signed the paper that Severus had given her then walked out the door, and she still didn’t believe the lie she told him. Try as she might, she couldn’t make herself believe that she never loved him; she had and lying to herself wouldn’t change that.

The only contact she had with the Wizarding world since her divorce had been with Harry, Neville, and at times Luna. She started taking courses at a local school in a number of things that caught her attention; the first was a cooking class. After five years of being told that her cooking ranged from passable to inedible, it was the first one that caught her attention. She didn’t understand her need to better herself in those areas; he wasn’t around to care any if she could cook now or not.

She worked as a waitress at a café down the street, and it was enough for her. Her wand was packed away in the attic along, with everything else she kept from the magical world. She had tried for years to fit into that world, but it never happen. Then the day he finally broke her she gave up on it. There was nothing there for her nor would there ever be. All that world was to her now was heartache and disappointment. She had lost too many things to a world she loved, things she'd never get back; her parents, friends, her childhood, everything that mattered.

Now she lived a solitary life. The few dates she had been on in the last year, in an attempt to reclaim something of a normal life, didn’t do anything except reinforce her belief that men were mean to the point of being cruel to any woman. The only man that she went on more than a few dates with she kicked out of her house when he said something one night about a news story that sounded so much like Severus that she lost it. He never called or came around again.

She was better off alone, she knew that. She couldn’t see past the first man she ever loved more than life, and knew that she never would. She had learned to live with the fact that she loved someone who was not good for her, and that she would never want anyone but him. When she accepted that fact, she found that it was easier to deal with some of the emotional baggage that had come from the five years they were together.

She sat at the table with her tea, reading a letter from Harry asking her to lunch next week. She'd go, as it had been a month since they met, but she hated the looks he always gave her. They bordered on pity, and at times, she wanted to scream at him that he needed to direct that look elsewhere. He had told her every time that they were together that she looked like hell, suggesting that maybe she should talk to Severus.

She didn’t want to talk to that man; she was trying to live without him. It had taken her months to not cry herself to sleep at night, or tear up when she thought about him. No, she would never talk to him again. It was just too hard to even think about him. She returned to the Muggle world to be damn sure that she never ran into him again in her life.

She wrote a short note to Harry, knowing that his owl had waited for her outside in a tree. Once she tied the note to his leg and sent him on his way, she turned on the radio, settling on the sofa with a book. Not half way down the page, tears came unbidden and she angrily swiped at them before throwing the book on the coffee table. She stared into the cold fireplace as she thought of her biggest failure; she couldn’t make a marriage work. She had tried, she had done all the things she had seen her mother do growing up, but it still wasn’t enough for him. She had given him the whore he wanted and it still wasn’t enough for him. She had lost herself in what he wanted and still, at the first chance he got, she was gone.

Why had he asked her that last question? In over five years he hadn’t cared if she even liked him, let alone loved him, and then all of a sudden, it was the most important question. She should have returned the question to him, but by that time he had made his feelings clear and she had lost so much of herself that she couldn’t bring herself to give voice to the question. Maybe the answer would have scared her, but she would never know now.

In the deepest, darkest reaches of her heart, she wished they were still living together. She still loved him above all else; she knew it was not healthy. The way he treated her through the whole of their marriage was wrong, but she still couldn’t help how she felt.

She remembered all the far off looks he got when he didn’t know she was watching, how when in his unguarded moments she saw someone so different than the person he presented to the world. She knew he was a very broken man. She had silenced her room; he never did. He talked in his sleep. The first time she heard his inner dialog about how he didn’t want to follow through with killing the headmaster she had cried the rest of the night. In time she knew the two nightmares that woke him the most; killing Dumbledore and Nagini, though she never asked him about it.

She finally lay down on the sofa. She was tired. It seemed that every time her mind went round and round about him, she found herself almost unable to keep her eyes open. She pulled the throw pillow under her head, and as her eyes closed, she knew she would, more than likely, dream about him.


	7. Two Year's Later

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Do I really need to say that I don’t own them? I'm just playing with someone else's toys and do return them in the same shape I have found them (well that may not always be the case).

_Two Years after the divorce papers were signed_

Hermione stood looking out of the window of her bedroom onto the back garden; it was two years ago today that she signed those papers for him. She wondered if he had found someone that he could love and would be able to give him what he desired, like she even knew what that was. He wouldn’t have told her even if she had asked; he spent too much time resenting her for saving him from Azakban. She finally came to the realization that he truly thought he deserved to be in that awful place.

It was strange to look back on it now. Half the Wizarding world wanted to call him a hero, and the other half wanted him to spend the rest of his life paying for giving up half of his to rid the world of Tom Riddle.  

She had spent hours trying to find a way out for him whether he wanted it or not. When it came down to the final days of his Death Eater trial, the marriage law came into being. Mr. Kaseload came to her with the idea of betrothing herself to Severus as a way to turn the undecided in Severus’ favor. She never expected Severus to agree.

She could only guess what Mr. Kaseload told Severus, but if his actions when they were married were anything to go by, then Severus had hated the thought of it. She had no idea why he had agreed to it, but it was the deciding factor that won him his freedom, which was what she thought he deserved.

Hindsight really was perfect vision. She saw it now from his point of view. He traded two masters for one; her. She thought maybe that was the reason he treated her the way he did while they were married.

He couldn’t have known that she didn’t want to control him. All she had wanted was an equal partnership, but he refused to listen to her when she tried to explain it to him. Instead he got the upper hand from the beginning, showing her who was in charge and that everything would be to his design and no one else's.

Instead of asking her he assumed that she thought he should be indebted to her, but that was never what she had wanted. Maybe that was the reason she never stood up for herself with him; she wanted to make sure he knew that she didn’t marry him because of some need to control him. She did it so he could be his own man, no masters. Not one person telling him what to do, but in doing so, she let him use her as a doormat.

In the five years they were married, he tore away almost everything that made her who she was, until what was left was an emotionally unstable wreck on the inside. No one seeing her would notice anything was different, but she doubted everything she did now. She was working on getting better, on how she saw herself, but it was a long road to recover all that she lost to him.

The thing that still got to her after two years was that she still loved him. Even after all he said to her, the way he treated her, she still found that she couldn’t believe the lie she told him. She wondered if it even mattered anymore, as long as he believed it.

She pulled herself away from the window as it started to rain; at least the weather matched her mood. She wandered downstairs to the kitchen, and made a cup of tea. She looked out of the window, down the street. She found it odd that when the world gave her hell, she ran home, the only place she felt safe now.

She drank her tea before going to lie on the sofa. She was tired. She knew that it was because she was more depressed today than she had been in a while, and it always seemed that caused her to sleep more.

~~^~~ ~~^~~

_She was crouched down beside the boathouse. She heard the voices inside. She vaguely wondered if Voldemort had discovered that Snape had been a spy, but dismissed the idea when she could make sense of what was being said. The dark wizard wanted control of the Elder wand, but he wasn’t going to get it killing Snape. Facts rushed through her mind; Harry telling her that Draco was the one who disarmed Dumbledore, Harry wrestling wands away from Draco in Malfoy Manor, the story of the Three Brothers, the ownership of the wand being passed by being won. Voldemort was wrong, killing Snape was not going to gain him power over the Elder wand. Then she heard it; Snape hitting against the glass, Voldemort telling his snake to kill. She covered her mouth with her hand to keep from screaming._

_She followed Harry and Ron into the boathouse to see Snape against the window bleeding profusely, she watched in horror as Harry tried to stop the bleeding. That is not going to help, she thought,  as she heard Snape's voice then Harry yelling at her for something._

_Once they turned to leave, she turned back taking another look at the man she was sure wasn’t what he seemed. The boys ran out the door as she went back. Something wasn’t right about this. He was a Potions master, and was a smart man. She started rifling through his pockets until she found what she was looking for; anti-venom and a blood replenisher._

_She spelled the wounds in his neck, watching as it closed, followed by the snake bite. She poured the potions down his throat. As she started to stand, his hand grabbed her wrist. She looked down into his eyes, and saw a scared boy, not the hard man he had become, just for a moment before he closed them again._

_She consoled herself by saying if he died then it was not because she didn’t try to save him._

~~^~~ ~~^~~

Hermione sat straight up. She had not had that dream in a long time; most of the time it was more of a nightmare and she woke screaming when the damn snake attacked him. A fleeting thought crossed her mind. Did he resent her for trying to save him and the fact that it worked? If he didn’t want to be saved then why have the potions on him? She shook her head as she stood. She'd never know the answer to either question.

She made her way to her computer. It was time to find more to occupy her time, so the thoughts of Severus would stay at bay.


	8. Year Two Severus

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Do I really need to say that I don’t own them? I'm just playing with someone else's toys and do return them in the same shape I have found them (well that may not always be the case).

Severus woke this morning, not wanting to drag himself out of bed today. It was two years today that he let her sign the divorce parchment and leave. In the last year he had come to the conclusion that he allowed it to happen. He could have stopped it at anytime, one word or just a few would have led her to turn around, would have stopped the quill from scratching her name on the parchment, he was sure of it, yet he didn’t say a word.

The last year had been strange. Minerva had been in contact, asking him to consider retaking the post of Potions master. In the seven years since Slughorn had retired, the position had become much like that of Defence against The Dark Arts when Riddle had cursed it. Two of the teachers had gotten themselves killed, and the others had all been let go due to the number of accidents that had occurred in their classes, due to their incompetence.

Did he really want to go back to teaching children who didn’t want to be there, who didn’t pay attention until he scared them into doing so? When he saw the statistics that she sent along with her request, it galled him that the board hired incompetent potion instructors that allowed so much to happen in classes. He had heard the rumor that had circulated over the last few years, the one that said that he had cursed the class. Nothing could be further from the truth; he would not endanger the lives of children like that. However, given the fact that they had at least four bad accidents a year, he could see how the rumor could have started.

He had until mid-July to give her his answer, when the board would go on the hunt for another incompetent dunderhead who had no idea how to teach Potions. He was leaning toward taking the post, if only to have something to do. If it did nothing else but take his mind off Hermione, it would be worth it to him.

He sat up in the bed, and, opening the bedside table drawer, he pulled out her journal. He had placed it in the drawer a year ago, and he wondered if her words would have less impact on him this year as they did when he read them last year. He opened the book and started reading.

Almost twenty four hours later he was finished with it again, with the impact just the same as last year. He saw what he had done to her over the five years of their marriage from her perspective. He had been right last year; he had done to her what was done to him only he had increased it by tenfold.

He placed the book back in the drawer as he went to shower, his mind still going over what he had read. Was it even good to look back at this once a year? It only served to remind him of what a downright bastard he was, how he could be cutting and cruel to someone.

For some reason a memory came to him, the day his representative came to tell him that there might be a way to avoid Azakban.

~~^~~~~^~~

_"There may be a way for you to still be able to avoid Azakban, but I don’t think you're going to like it much."_

_Severus only grunted at the man he didn’t care. Why didn’t they just leave him alone? This is what he deserved for all he had done. He wasn’t meant to live past the war but yet here he was, his purpose fulfilled but his life still carried on._

_"Do you want to hear it or not?"_

_Severus stared at the wall behind the man._

_"You know you would think that with all the people who are working to see to it that you go free you might be a little more grateful to them."_

_Severus only snarled at the man._

"Fine, here is what is being put into the works. I don’t know if you've heard or not but the Ministry passed a marriage law, and someone has come forward with the idea of being betrothed to you as a way to show the Wizengamot that you are reformed and can be trusted."

_Severus was shocked by this. Not about the law; he had heard the rumors about it and guards talking about it. No, what shocked him was that someone wanted to use it to free him._

_"And who is this fine upstanding member of the community that would lower herself to marry and bed a Death Eater?" he finally asked as he saw the flash across the other man's face and Severus knew the other man thought that if he talked fast enough Severus would be on board with this idea._

_"Hermione Granger."_

_"Absolutely not." He spat out. Leave it to that insufferable girl to come up with an idea like this. She was his student, young enough to be his daughter. There was no way he was going to marry her._

_"Why not?  Between herself, Harry Potter and Ron Weasley, they pull a lot of weight in the Wizarding World. By this one action on her part it would show the Wizengamot that she truly believes you to be an upstanding member of the community, and in your innocence."_

_"No, you go back and tell that child that this will not happen."_

_"You do realize where you are, don’t you? As it stands right now, you have no rights. You realize that she could file the papers of betrothal regardless of your decision, and you would be powerless to stop her?"_

_Severus slammed his fist down on the table, drawing the attention of the guards. When they saw that it was just a small outburst, they went back to talking amongst themselves._

_"I will in no way accept this. That girl is young enough to be my daughter! It's not right and I will not let it happen. Why can't they see I am where I belong?"_

_"She's more than old enough to have made her own choices, and I disagree. This is not where you belong or I wouldn’t be here now."_

_"I don’t give a damn if she's old enough by law, I will not accept this proposal."_

_"You still think you have a choice in the matter."_

_"Are you saying that it's already done?"_

_The man never answered Severus. Instead, he stood leaving the room, and he took that the answer was positive._

~~^~~~~^~~

Severus stood under the spray of the shower wondering where that memory came from. He hadn’t thought about it for years. Then another thought flitted across his mind. What if the man had led him to believe that the betrothal papers were already filed when they were not? Winning Severus' freedom had definitely furthered the wizard’s career.

He had known somewhere in his mind that Hermione wasn’t that underhanded, but he had been so angry that his future was being planned out for him again that he never saw past it to really think about it. Now that he was years removed from it, she never acted like she had done it to control him. In fact, it was the opposite.

As he dressed he thought over Minerva's offer again.


	9. Three Years Later

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Do I really need to say that I don’t own them? I'm just playing with someone else's toys and do return them in the same shape I have found them (well that may not always be the case).

_Three years after the divorce papers were signed._

Severus had arrived home last night, headed straight to the shower then bed. It seemed that the dunderheads knew that he wanted to escape early and were having none of it. He huffed out a laugh when he stepped into the shower, he would never admit it to anyone but he would rather teach Longbottom again than half of the students he had this year. Not one of them stood out, and not one of the older students knew what the hell they were doing. It was hard work undoing all the improper teaching they suffered, and he would be surprised if any of them passed NEWTs or OWLs.

He accepted the job under one condition; he would leave after class on the fourteenth of May and not return until the morning of the twenty-second. When he made the request he saw the look of first shock then understanding that passed over the headmistress' face, but to her credit she said nothing but to accept his terms.

He lay in bed after his shower. He had thought that taking the job at the school would quiet his thoughts at night, but it didn’t work. When the day was finished and he was lying in bed in the silent darkness, his mind traveled to her. Being back at Hogwarts had let him in on the gossip in the Wizarding world. He had discovered that Hermione, after their divorce,  had rejoined the Muggle world, leaving the Wizarding one behind. Though some of them had tried to talk to her, she really didn’t have anything to do with anyone other than Potter and Longbottom. Could they really blame her? He knew how most of the people that she was once close with treated her after she married him.

When he woke at dawn the next morning he pondered the dream he had had that night. It was definitely not of the usual variety, and he wondered about where it came from. It was some insignificant event when Lupin was teaching. He had caught Potter out after curfew with a parchment that he cast a reveal on. Nothing else happened, and  he woke up. He went to get something for breakfast; he had skipped lunch and supper yesterday.

When he opened the journal and started reading it this year, the dream returned to his mind. He picked up his wand, and cast a reveal spell. He flipped to a page that he knew only had few words on it, only to find the page full. So she hid her more private thoughts from even herself.

He stayed on the page. Before it only contained a line about her birthday. Now it was full, so he settled in to read.

~~^~~~~^~~

_I had a thought; does he resent me for saving his life? I know he didn’t think he would live, but now I wonder if he was so ready to die that in saving him all I have earned is his ire. I am still haunted by nightmares...there was so much blood. It's always crossed my mind. If he didn’t want to live then why did he have those antidotes on him that night? Did he think his life so horrible that, unknown to Voldemort, he was helping Severus commit suicide, just as Severus had done for Dumbledore?_

_I can't even honestly say why I did it other than I saw past several details that never made sense to me to see who he really was. I felt that he deserved to live in a world he help create free from Death Eaters and Dark Marks, and a very dark wizard that wanted to rule it. Why should he die for a mistake made in his youth?_

_Today is my birthday and as such I am going to make a wish. I wish that Severus would enjoy this second chance he has been given and not hate it so much that life is doing nothing but passing him by._

~~^~~~~^~~

He set the book down. It wasn’t her saving his life that he resented. Not at all. It was the way she used him to get him out of Azakban that he resented. He didn’t have any rights at the time and was steamrolled into marriage with her, although in the last year he wondered if his feelings toward her in that matter were misplaced.

He flipped back to the beginning. Not much had really changed in that first year. There was one entry that caught his attention. Why she never said anything to him he could only guess.

~~^~~~~^~~

_I was woken by him screaming. It's not like this is the first time but this was the most heart wrenching. It's almost like he can't wake himself from the grip of whatever nightmare he's in. It's painful to sit here against the wall and listen to him, for now that the screaming has stopped, the words have started. He talks when he doesn’t wake up; mostly an inner dialog that the world should never hear._

_Tonight it's about Professor Dumbledore. I never saw the memories, I only heard bits and pieces about them. Tonight the one that sticks out in my mind is Dumbledore telling Severus he was the only one that knew if it would damage his soul to help him avoid the end that was sure to come. For someone who was supposed to be so wise Dumbledore was such an idiot. Of course murdering someone damages your soul. There is a difference between killing to stay alive and pre-meditated murder and that is what the old man asked of Severus._

_Of course it tore Severus' soul apart; his mentor, the only person who ever believed in him asked him to commit an unforgivable act to what end? Make sure Voldemort didn’t doubt him? Fat lot of good that did. He still tried to kill Severus._

_He talks about how he doesn’t want to do this anymore, and how he hates the day he is sure will come, and something about how the headmaster had said please just to get him to do it when he hesitated. What tears at me the most is that the words sound like they are coming from a child; a lost, lonely child that is trying to cope with all of it._

_I wish he would allow me into his rooms. It breaks my heart that I can't go and comfort him. To soothe away this part of his past, if not to forget then to at least comfort him until the nightmare passes._

~~^~~~~^~~

Severus laid the book down. He poured himself a drink, slamming it back, and poured another before returning to his chair. He could tell by her writing that she was upset that night; it was just another thing to hate himself for. He never meant for her to know such things. He couldn’t control his dreams. Though he could have silenced his room, instead of playing those fucking mind games with her about how he would do anything he pleased. In doing something so petty, he exposed her to his worst memories.

He stood again. He knew the next entry he would find would cut him deeply. It was embedded so deep in him and he regretted it from the moment he did it. He grabbed his coat, going outside. He needed a walk, some distance between him and what he knew was to come.


	10. Betrayal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note: Did you all think I forgot about you? Not a chance. First let me thank everyone who had reviewed, alerted, or put this story on their favorites it means a lot to me. I'm a little apprehensive about posting this chapter. I know the journal entry is going to make some go WTF! (It made me go WTF! And I wrote it) I can promise though that if you stick with the story until the end it will make sense. Enjoy!
> 
> Disclaimer: Do I really need to say that I don’t own them? I'm just playing with someone else's toys and do return them in the same shape I have found them (well that may not always be the case).

Severus felt as if he had wondered around the whole town by the time he returned. He knew he was avoiding what was to come in her journal. He knew what he had done by heart when he returned. He played it over enough in his mind while he was walking. The only thing was to see it from her point of view. But did he want to? Even if he didn’t he would still read it. He would read every word.

As he had walked, the chain around his neck had ended up wrapped around his hand as he thought about that one time, and how he beat her down mentally. In his anger, he wanted to show her that though she manipulated him into marriage, he would do as he pleased. The thing was, he wasn’t so sure anymore that she was the one who manipulated him. He had begun to think that she was a pawn in it, just the same as him. If he ever found that to be true, he would never be able to make it up to her, for the way he treated her.

He took the bottle of whiskey and sat with the book in his chair; he knew he was going to need it to get though this entry. He found the entry he was looking for easily, and it had been hidden before. Taking a deep breath, he started to read.

~~^~~~~^~~

_Tonight was one of the few times since we married that Severus ate supper with me. Of course, when it was finished I found out why. He commanded me to stay in my room tonight, not to come out until morning. When I heard him leave I didn’t understand why he would do such a thing if he wasn’t even going to be here. It didn’t take more than a couple of hours to find out. I was sitting at my bed working on some research when I heard the front door open._

_I heard him on the steps before I heard a giggle; a woman’s giggle. A fleeting thought crossed my mind about what he was doing bringing some woman here, and the thought didn’t sit well if he thought I would be a party to a threesome. I could sink to new depths for him, but that was not a line I was willing to cross, even for him._

_When I heard his bedroom door open and the woman, who was obviously drunk, say something about his huge bed, I didn’t want to hear anymore. I silenced my room only to have the charm drop a moment later, and when I tried again, something blocked me._

_I had been privy to many things that happen in that room; Some nights I am sure he amplified the sound so I could hear him masturbate knowing that he preferred that more than coming to me, his wife. I tried not to let it bother me, but somewhere deep inside I knew no matter what I did or how I presented myself to him, he would never find me attractive or desirable._

_I tried to block out the sounds, but nothing seemed to work. It was like they were being fed directly into my head. I heard him say things that I longed for him to say to me. There was no mistake as to what they were doing. There was no mistaking how much he was enjoying himself._

_It really didn’t matter what he did, I was still bound to have sex with him when the ring said. Now, I know my place. He told me once that I was no better than a Knockturn Alley whore. Tonight he showed me that was all I am to him._

_Then, as fate is a cold-hearted bitch, my ring started tingling. I had to accept him into my bed, no matter how much I had just been hurt. I had to allow him the most intimate of touches, and try not to think of how_ _he had just taken a woman, a stranger, the way I wanted him to take me._

_He came to my room, drank the damn potion in front of me, and then did what could only be described as rutted around on top of me until he was finished. I couldn’t do anything but bite my lip to keep from crying until he left. My heart hurt so much, as did my chest. I was scared that something might be wrong but didn’t say anything. Maybe if I did die this nightmare of a life would be over._

_I felt so degraded and dirty that I had to take a shower, once I asked if it was okay to leave my room. It didn’t help at all. Maybe when all is said and done, I'll just move on and become the whore he has turned me into._

~~^~~~~^~~

Severus held on so tightly to the rings in his hand as he read that they left deep indentions in his palm, one almost breaking the skin. He loosened his hold, shoving his hands through his hair. If he had ever wanted to have her back, this entry showed him that he would never have her with him again.

In his anger he did something so terrible to her, all in the name of showing her that he was not going to be lorded over by her. Hindsight showed him that she never once wanted to be his master, but his equal.

He had meant to cut her deeply at the time, but in the harsh light of day, he felt empty at his actions. He avoided her for months after that. He couldn’t stand the pained look in her eyes.

He pulled his hands down, looking at the one that still held the rings. He stared at the tiny scars on the back of it, scars that were left when he punched the mirror. He had removed all the glass but didn’t heal his hand as a reminder of the many, much deeper scars that he had left her with.

Past his hand, something caught his attention on the page. At first he thought it was just an ink splatter,  then he reasoned that it looked too uniform to be a splatter. He took his wand, pointing at the spot. With a quiet 'dilato' a footnote appeared; _I tried but keeping it is just too painful 3/2_

He had no idea what the footnote meant but he intended to find out, although a suspicion spread over him that she had removed the memory and hidden it.

He spent the next few days reading over the journal.  He found extended entries, but nothing else new of the caliber of his blatant unfaithfulness to her.

He spent the next few days adjusting to the new information he had found in the journal. He didn’t dare call it accepting. He would never accept that he treated her that way. Something had to be behind it. He just couldn’t put his finger on what that was.


End file.
